Arezue Desire Chapter 8
by SakuraSyaoran4eva
Summary: Ch. 8 Angel's human life was spent whoring and drinking what if he'd ended up with a daughter? Her name's Arezue [desire]. After 100 years of avoiding him as a result of her cursed soul she's come to him for help. Chapter 8 is here.


TYPO: In chapter seven it was said that Arezue was born in 1961. It was a typo. She was born in 1739. They were later turned in 1755. Thus, she was 14 years old. 

Dedication: This is for MysticWolf1 & Lonnie who told me that I'd messed up Arezue's birth year. If they hadn't people would still think Arezue was born in 1961 – nearly two hundred and eight years after her death. Why is it that no one else noticed?

Everyone thought the chemistry between Arezue and Wesley was just off. Hopefully this chapter will clear everything up as well as provide an insight to what's going on between them. Also, Arezue and Angel finally see each other and this adds insult to injury.

Review responses below. (just find your underlined name under the reviews section)

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Arezue; Desire

Chapter Eight: Premonitions and Daddy

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Wesley Wyndam-Pryce walked Arezue up to Angel's room, silence stretching out between the two of them. Wesley was too caught up in admiring the way her hair sparkled in the limelight, like caramel and honey mixed together, to say much. And Arezue was just taking in her surroundings.

The ex-watcher was actually quite confused. He didn't understand. He'd just met her – if you could even call it that – less then five minutes ago and – there was just this thing…that he felt – towards her. He'd never been one to believe too much in the whole 'love' theory. That it just happened without warning. But yet he was here. And she was here. And there was something in his heart that he just – felt…

Pulling himself out of his brain's wanderings, he turned to face the – could he even call her a woman? She was, looked about, fifteen, sixteen tops. And what was this feeling inside of him?

"We're here." He finally managed to state. He hated to spoil the silence. He just wanted to spend all of eternity just watching her, yet he knew that all things came to an end – and he wasn't going to try to fool himself into thinking that there could ever be anything between the two of them.

He knew that this was probably as close as he would ever get to the divine goddess now looking at him deviously. He knew that she wasn't perfect; that she certainly wasn't the most beautiful thing in existence and that she was nothing more than the ensouled version of a monster just waiting to come out. He'd read all the books and biographies on her. He'd referred to her as a veiled monster many times in his works as a watcher but – this was now.

And he knew – even if he couldn't wrap his mind around it, that he was in love; she might just snap his neck in a matter of seconds, but he loved her.

Arezue watched the English man silently. He just seemed to stand there; his eyes far away. She set her jaw. Who did he think he was? She was Arezue; scourge of Europe for goodness' sake. And he had the decency to just stand there and ignore her.

Fuming, she tried to come up with ways to torture him. Then an idea struck her; she'd read him. Find out his biggest fear and use it against him. She was a monster and he would know it.

She placed her right palm on top of his chest, right above his heart and smirked. This was going to be so much fun.

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-Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, that was his name. -"You're a worthless little brat! You'll never amount to anything!" - His father; a monster in his own right. So much fear – of failure. Self-worthlessness – he feared that too.-

-" A watcher? You?" Laughter. -"You listen up, boy. And you listen up good – you will never be a watcher!" -Anguish- "I'm disgusted at the thought of actually admitting to someone that you are my son. Watcher, indeed!"-

-"Hey Wesley! You're supposed to be my watcher? Oh, Please!" -Buffy, Faith – slayers; he'd failed them.- So much pain. The desire to prove himself.-

-"You're fired Wyndam-Pryce." -Quentin Travers. -He was such a failure.-

-Angel; the ensouled vampire. -Angel Investigations.- "I don't envy you Angel. You walk a fine line."- Respect, yet fear. -He feared – Angelus-

-Love. -So much love -He was so afraid…she would reject him and he would… so much love-

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Gasping, Arezue pulled away. Her eyes widened in shock. Wesley was watching her worriedly.

"Oh my – are you alright?" She just stared at him. She hadn't felt such love since the night she'd been damned. Sure, she knew it existed. She had always known other people felt such things, Drusilla, William, but she had never – not since her death.

Oh god! She was going to throw up. She felt disgust. Towards him, the world, herself… She was a monster for Pete's sake.

Realizing that the ex-watcher was still watching her, she managed to choke out that she was fine. She watched him as he nodded, her eyes full of confusion. How could she live and feel something that she'd christened 'love' for an eternity and still not be able to understand what the thing she'd felt for just a moment was…

"Well, alright then." Wesley lingered, not wanting to leave. Not wanting to miss anything; not that confused look on her face; the astonishment in her eyes, not the littlest smile that she might make after he was gone…not a single thing. "I guess I ought to be getting home now." Knowing he could stall no more, Wesley nodded to her and walked off.

'Something tells me he's going to be jerking himself off tonight.' Arezue thought with contempt, more to make herself feel better then to insult the Englishman. She clenched her eyes shut and leaned against the door to her father's place.

She didn't understand. How was it that he could he feel that much love and she couldn't? She'd been around for years, gone through so much…she had a soul too. So, why was it that she just couldn't?

"I hate her!" She stated angrily. There was a woman, she'd found from her premonition, who all that love was directed at. Arezue hadn't seen whom, but she hated the woman. "She probably doesn't even appreciate him."

She pushed away the feeling and straightened up. She didn't care. It didn't matter. She was Arezue and that was all that mattered.

Forcing a smirk upon her lips, she turned the doorknob to the room – effectively breaking the lock – and stepped in.

Glancing around the room she found that her father was definitely living up to her expectations. It was basically like a little (very posh) apartment. There was a living room, a kitchen, and a bedroom that she guessed was Angel's.

Forcing the door to the bedroom open, she glanced around. Black silk sheets, about twelve pillows on the just the bed, a Persian rug on the floor…his days of sewer living were obviously very much over.

"I think I'll like it here." She whispered, setting her purse on the dresser and walking to the closet.

"I hear from you three times in one night," Angel's voice drawled out, alerting her that he was awake. "Are you sure that it's not my birthday - " He paused. "Or at least father's day?" She turned around to face him, a cold smile on her face, her expression deeply guarded.

"Well, you know me," She shrugged, starting to pull off her dress. " I live to be spontaneous –" She frowned at him. "Aren't you going to at least turn around?" He raised an eyebrow at her question.

"I'm your father. Why should I turn around?" She clenched her jaw shut tightly. She hated when he used that line – when had he ever done anything fatherly? He frowned. "What happened to your underclothes?"

She rolled her eyes at his question. Who wore actual underclothes nowadays? There were no corsets or pantyhose or anything of the kind. You could walk around naked in the city and no one would care.

"It's a long story." She made a face. "What can I borrow that doesn't cost more then two hundred dollars?" Groaning, Angel clamored out of bed.

"You know," He stated, flipping through his closet. "You assume that after your death, your daughter isn't going to stumble in soaking wet and reeking to high heaven of men and alcohol in the middle of the night." Taking the sweatshirt that her father offered her, Arezue bit her tongue.

Who was he to talk? She'd spent the majority of her human life taking care of him because he'd gotten too drunk to see straight. And what about how he'd spent his entire life whoring around? At least she'd never ended up with a child…

Arezue sighed. He was still going on. Lecturing was the one thing Angel was actually good at – that and making her feel like shit.

She pulled on the sweatshirt and frowned at how it went past her knees.

"Must've shrunk in the wash…" He murmured causing her to raise her eyebrow at him.

"So," He turned to her – uncomfortable now that he couldn't play the dad card anymore. "How did you find my room?"

Arezue didn't answer. She was walking around the room, running her fingers over whatever piece caught her fancy. She looked up at him as something struck her.

"He never introduced himself." She replied coolly. Angel realized that it was more of a request than a statement.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." He told her, aware that she was probably playing with him. She liked to do such things… "He's the only person I know who'd spend all night actually working." She nodded, not really listening.

For some reason she felt as if there was something between Angel and Wesley. Some unbreached tension perhaps. She'd seen Angel try to smother Wesley with a pillow in her premonition but hadn't really gotten a why.

Arezue fingered a small glass framed painting she'd spotted on the dresser.

"It's me…" She whispered slowly.

And it was. An old oil painting (probably from the early nineteen hundreds) of her lay encased in a glass heart shaped figurine.

"Yeah." He replied. She could feel her eyes burning. He had never cared about her – he'd always hated her. She knew it. So, why was it that he now felt the need to confuse her?

"It's the only picture I have of you, Char." He said. He sounded a bit sad, Arezue realized.

Angel started to put his hand on her shoulder but pulled it away when he noticed her tense up in reaction to the movement.

"You should dry off." He finally said. She nodded, deep in thought. "I'll just –" He walked off to the bathroom to get a towel, grateful to get away from his daughter.

He could now remember why he'd left her with Darla all those years ago. She was just too hard to deal with. Grabbing the towel from the rack, he walked back to her. Arezue was still on the bed where he'd left her, staring blankly at the floor.

"Thanks." She took it from him, avoiding his eyes. Drying off her hair, she looked up at him.

"So, where do I sleep?" She asked, looking more together.

His stomach lurched at the question. She wanted to stay. Here – with him. Where he lived. Where he was.

And he couldn't help but want to throw up at the mere thought of such a thing. He didn't know if he could deal with all the issues that having her around would undoubtedly bring up. There was Cordelia and Fred and Connor…

Connor….

"Aren't you going to tell me about your problem?" He finally blurted out. If he solved whatever dilemma she had, she'd leave and everything'd go back to how it had been before she'd shown up.

He could see the turmoil in her eyes as she thought of what to say in response to his question. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. She clenched her eyes shut. The thought of how low she'd fallen as to ask for his help…

"I – I'd rather talk about it later." She finally said. "Can we – tomorrow – " She looked at him and he nodded.

"Yeah, sure." He looked around, not wanting to meet her eyes. This was so uncomfortable. "Whatever."

He didn't like the silence that existed between them, the way they were both uneasy around each other. He fidgeted nervously.

"There are a lot of open rooms in the hotel." He told her. She raised an eyebrow at him. "But, uh, I bet you're going to want mine just to annoy me…" She smiled at this.

It wasn't a very genuine smile and it was a little broken, but it was still a smile of sorts.

"Saw your living room in the way in," She drawled, smirking. "the couch looks real comfy." He chuckled.

"I'm sleeping on the couch aren't I?" She replied by climbing into his bed. He turned to go.

"Um, Angel?" He looked back at her. She wasn't going to ask him to check for monsters under the bed, was she? The irony of such a thing occurring wasn't lost on him.

"Do you think you could actually put a shirt on for work in the morning?" She lit up a cigarette and he cringed as he thought of what that would do to his sheets. "I read the Englishman downstairs and he was thinking about how your secretary and some guy named Fred think it's sexy when you show up for work without a shirt."

Angel turned away so that she wouldn't see the smile on his face. She didn't want women (or men) looking at him and that was endearing…

"Good night, Charlotte Jane." There was an annoyed groan from Arezue as he flipped the light off and walked out.

"If I walk in on you and your slut of a secretary, I'm going to eat her!" She shouted after him.

The door closed and she was left alone with her thoughts; and the soul. But that was pretty much absent because of all the beer she'd consumed earlier.

"That bitch is so dead…"

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A/N: Arezue's really bitchy, isn't she? I'm so sorry about the typo as to Arezue's birth year last time. I forgot to reread so that might've been why. I hope this chapter established the fact that Wesley's not blindly jumping into things. Again, this is taking place during season four so Wesley's not the bumbling fool we all love from season one. Does anyone know how long Buffy was dead for during season six? I know Spike mentioned the number of days… Feedback & Criticism is very much appreciated. No flames.

Review Responses:

MysticWolf1: "Why does Charlotte share Liam's last name if they, (Liam/Charlotte Janette) weren't married?" Well, her mother split after she was born and of course Liam's parents were catholic so they had to make it look like Charlotte Jane wasn't an illegemite (sp?) child.

"Ireland in 1961" It was a typo – 1741.

"A seventy-five pound vampire, seemingly fifteen in human years." I know it's small but my cousin is 13 and she weighs exactly 67 lbs. I wanted to make sure that Arezue wasn't drop dead gorgeous or Mary Sueish or anything.

"As for the Wes/Arezue thing... Wesely being attracted to a girl/vampire who looks no older than 15?" Wes has always been the weird one which gives me more room to work with. We also know that he's not the kind of person to put much into appearances (he knows how old Arezue really is). I also wanted Wesley to be the one in love because he just fits in so much as the lover, you know?

"It is ok to play with the timelines a bit, but if you go too far off you may alienate your readers because the story is so far from cannon." Aaack! I know, but I never saw season 2 or 3 of Angel (my dad doesn't think tv is good b/c he's very religious) so I tend to mess up a lot. I try to find scripts online though…

I'm really glad you take the time to point out everything because I'd definitely be lost if you didn't. Thanks:)

Gigi13: I hope this was interesting enough for their meeting. Arezue + Wesley would you say Wesane (Jane) or Warzue or something? LOL. Is it going to be? You'll have to read and see. :)

Lonnie: Random Question: Why was a nineteen year old having sex with a thirteen year old? She was a prostitute. Liam was a womanizer…what's age got to do with sex, right?

The 1961 thing was a typo (Re: above). I'm really glad you told me though - I would never have noticed it! I decided to go with the Angelverse as to his death. I'm really bad at math so I would never have been able to figure out the dates if you hadn't told me.

The gravestone – I always wondered too. We all know that his father was a little … religious … so you might be right. LOL.

I honestly don't think my story would run as smoothly if people didn't stop me every chapter to criticize. I'm really glad that you take your time to do this. Thank you.

The author's notes – yes, I agree with you. I've had people tell me so before. The reason the chapters are sometimes short is because I don't want my story to have the momentum of a freight train. The entire story is written as well as ten chapters of the sequel, but I just think the chapters are more effective the way I've spaced them out.

I know the author's notes are annoying so you are welcome to skip over the stuff (except the part where I reply to your review, because that would be pointless). I'd just email the reviewers themselves but I accept anonymous review and my time is limited so I can't.

I'm glad you have insomnia as that makes two of us :) Thank you for reviewing and for my new favorite word: blasphemy.

The Queen C: The Cordy /Wes thing was a bit weird on btvs, wasn't it? I mean, the writers messed up a perfectly compatible couple.

Umm…I'm sorry I have to tell you this, but a Mary Sue is a character who is perfect in every way, never has any problems, never makes any mistakes, gets boring around chapter three (think of the buffybot) – that kind of thing. If your character is a Mary Sue the best thing to do is come up with a plot so big it forces your character to change.

Shriuii: Thank you! As the story goes on, I'm sure I will (unfortunately) manage to destroy the timeline of both Btvs and Ats. I'm glad that there's going to be at least one person who isn't going to chew me out when this occurs.

Allen Pitt: Yes, Arezue will definitely not be happy. As Liam, Angel was a drunken absentee of a father, yet he loves Connor more than anything in the universe…this might hurt Arezue…

This is season four so the whole Quototh thing has already occurred. Yet, I think you'll be pretty surprised as to how I've set Connor up. :)

Recommended Reading: (please retype links)

Many Loves: A different look at Spike's turning (these are so yummy, aren't they?). This is taken from William's perspective on having a violent sire (Angelus), a crazy lover (Drusilla) and a cold-hearted mother figure (Darla). Starts off on the eve of Spike's turning and lasts an entire lifetime. M/M F/M

Author: Jessica Walker

Rating: R

Location: www. fangedfour . com / fangs / fiction / manyloves01 . html

Quote: "My life begins with an ending. Death is really something of a process."

The Mercy Seat: An evening alone in a bar on the not so nice part of Sunnydale, Willow bumps into Spike and things really start getting worse. Set after Grave. Willow, Spike, Sex, Drugs, Toilet. This is not fluff, people.

Author: Lovesbitca & Lyric  
Rating: NC-17

Location: http / www. echonyc . com / stax /Buffy / lovesbitca / seat . html

Quote: "This could be the start of quite a friendship. An incredibly fucked--up, dysfunctional, doomed--before--it--had--even--begun--friendship, but a friendship never the less."


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